


The Talk

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [74]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Halloween Costumes, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Misunderstandings, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: How about a fic where Bucky says 'we need to talk' without knowing that those words have such a strong impact on people (he just wanted to ask something simple, not related to the relationship) and Tony freaking out because he thinks Bucky wants to break up with him.</span>
</p><p>In the history of the world, nothing good had ever followed the phrase we need to talk. It wasn’t going to be, “We need to talk… I just realized I’m crazy about you, even though you’re frustrating at the best of times, and on the wrong side of forty, and are going grayer every day, while I’m young, and beautiful, and way out of your league.”</p><p>No, chances were it’d be something like, “We need to talk. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s pretty obvious you’re reading way too much into a little sex between colleagues, so let’s just call it quits before your patheticness makes me puke.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Combined with: I have a huge thing for age difference so… Imagine Tony being worried about his greying hair and his age, self-conscious that he’s dating a guy a lot younger than him. Imagine Bucky discovering that he never knew he’s into silver foxes before but Tony with silver in his hair are too hot for words.
> 
> AND: Imagine Tony throwing a Halloween party for the tower and Bucky surprising him with his costume by detaching his left arm for the night and dressing up as the Black Knight from Monty Python. Hilarity ensues.

Most people wouldn’t think of a gently smoldering building in the aftermath of a battle as a romantic sort of setting, but then again, Tony Stark wasn’t most people. He was kind of proud of that fact, actually, because he’d wanted to be the sort of guy that appreciated the little moments others let slip by unnoticed.

The sun was setting, so between that, the pollution, and the residual smoke, the sky was a beautiful mishmash of colors. Strange as it was, the remnants of the fire smelled good, reminiscent of burning leaves in the fall. It was almost suspiciously quiet, and the air had a pleasant crispness to it that served as a lovely contrast to the earlier heat and mayhem.

Tony inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth, the tension slowly leaving his body. Nearby, Clint was sprawled atop a pile of rubble, one leg swinging back and forth as he whistled tunelessly, staring up at the sky. Natasha was standing just below him sipping a steaming mug of something, and as Tony watched she grabbed his ankle and tugged, which in turn made the whistling stop. Sam said, “finally,” and grinned up at Natasha from the bit of ground he’d claimed as his own.

Thor and Steve were discussing something that had Thor gesticulating wildly, and Steve grinning just as wide, while nearby Bruce all but inhaled a package of Oreos, washing them down with a gallon of milk. Tony had no idea where he’d gotten either, but wasn’t about to complain—it was unusual to see Bruce appearing so contented after Hulking out.

Everyone was okay, and they’d saved the day.

It was a good night, and he was loath to do or say anything that led to them having to actually deal with the aftermath of the battle. He could feel the responsibility of it all waiting for him just like always, an uncomfortable pressure that followed him around during most of his waking hours, but did his best to squash the sensation, wanting to enjoy his moment.

Needing a decent distraction, Tony took inventory of his teammates once again before ultimately settling on Bucky. He was standing only three feet away, gun slung over his shoulder, and one leg propped up on a chunk of debris. As he watched, the wind shifted, causing Bucky’s hair to whip against his cheek. Shiny fingers reached up and tucked some of the errant strands behind his ear before scratching along his stubbled jaw.

Tony swallowed around the unwanted lump in his throat, and tried to burn the image into his memory. The shadows and light played wonderfully across the features of Bucky’s face, which in turn made Tony’s heart seize up a bit before it started beating faster.

It would probably be inappropriate to ask Bucky for a dance, but for some reason, it was the first thing that sprung to mind. The two of them swaying cheek to cheek, as the fires burnt out around them.

Somewhere nearby, something else exploded. The ground was still shaking beneath their feet when Bucky turned, met Tony’s eyes, and grinned lopsidedly. “It’s kinda gorgeous out tonight.”

Unable to help himself, Tony returned the smile. “I was just thinking the same thing,” he said, taking a couple steps closer. “Of course, I was staring at _you_ at the time, so…”

“Smooth, Stark,” Bucky drawled. His smile shifted into smirk territory. “Real smooth.”

“Admit it, you’re charmed.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling, and when the wind shifted again and undid Bucky’s work, Tony couldn’t resist reaching out to tuck the hair back behind his ear for him. Bucky made a soft, pleased noise at this, turning so that his face was all but pressed into Tony’s armored palm. His pale eyes seeming to gather up all the remaining light so they could shine in the growing darkness.

“We did good today,” he said.

Still preoccupied by observing the prettiness of Bucky’s eyes, Tony just hummed his agreement, wondering if Bucky could see how far gone he was. Really, it was pathetic, when you got right down to it, but it wasn’t like he had any choice when it came to his feelings.

Never mind that he had no idea when, precisely, his heart had latched onto Bucky.

See, when Steve’s old friend had finally allowed himself to be brought in, it was like he’d taken one look at Tony, and decided they weren’t going to get along. Right from the word go they’d fought, usually over or about or around Steve. Occasionally they found themselves on the same side of the Steve Debate; neither of them appreciated him jumping off of or out of high things when no one was expecting it, getting himself shot or blown up, or insisting that anchovies were an acceptable pizza topping. In those instances, a truce was called, but the rest of the time they mostly ignored or antagonized each other.

At some point, Tony came to terms with the idea that Bucky Barnes was there to stay, and figured it was his responsibility as Steve’s right hand Avenger to make the transition easier, rather than harder. Or, you know, maybe Steve had sat him down and had a little talk about how much it sucked to see two of his favorite people tearing each other to pieces for no particular reason.

So Tony started trying to find things to like about Bucky.

Bucky could be surprisingly charming when he wanted to be, but mostly he was snarly, and abrasive, and mouthed off at the drop of the hat. It was annoying until the first time he used his powers for good and made Fury storm out of a room. Tony admittedly fell in love with the guy the teensiest little bit after witnessing that, and suddenly debriefings had a lot more appeal.

Oddly enough, Barnes had a good sense of humor, and wasn’t nearly as uptight as Tony had expected. Although, it was maybe a bit darker than it’d been back before he’d fallen from the train, if Steve’s reactions were any indication. Tony thought he was funny, anyway.

Case in point, when Tony threw a Halloween bash in the Tower, Bucky showed up sans arm, dressed as the Black Knight from _Monty Python and The Holy Grail_. Even better, he stayed in character _all night_.

“Okay, that is an amazing costume,” Tony said, leaning back to take it all in.

Bucky remained silent.

“I’m serious. Your commitment to absorbing pop culture is admirable.”

Bucky shifted his stance, but said nothing. Tony had a moment’s panic, thinking maybe he’d completely misjudged, and it actually _wasn’t_ Bucky underneath the helmet. Of course, his arm was lying on the ground beside him, surrounded with what looked to be red silk scarves meant to represent blood. Tony stared down at it for a moment, marveling.

“I didn’t think it could get better, but the attention to detail is impressive.”

Bucky simply leaned a bit more on the replica sword he he was holding.

“Right, okay, great conversation.” Tony shifted to walk past Bucky in order to get another drink.

“None shall pass.”

“What?”

“None shall pass.”

Tony gawped for a moment, then proceeded to double over laughing; Bucky was doing the accent and everything. Clint sauntered over while Tony was trying to get control of himself again, scrunching his face up upon arrival.

“What’re you supposed to be, a chimney sweep?”

“Sh-sherlock Holmes,” Tony choked out, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, shit.”

“Where’s the deerstalker?” Clint shook his head, clapped Bucky on the shoulder, then attempted to walk around him.

“None shall pass.”

“You did this earlier, man, I just want a drink.”

Clint took another step, and Bucky shifted. “None shall pass.”

“Come on, Buck, I need a drink! I’m going whether you like it or not.”

“Then you shall _die_.”

Tony lost it again, the giggling devolving into unattractive snorting when Clint called out for Steve’s help.

“Bucky, just let Clint get by, okay?”

“I move for no man.”

Through his tears of laughter, Tony noted that Bucky allowed Natasha past so she could get drinks on everyone else’s behalf, apparently using the ‘no man’ bit as a loophole. He was committed, but he wasn’t stupid enough to take on Natasha.

“Oh, ow, okay, you win all the prizes,” Tony sighed, squeezing his sides. He might have spent the entire party following Bucky around to watch him interact with everyone else.

Once he’d started paying attention, it wasn’t too hard to admit Bucky was an interesting guy. Like the whole brainwashing, cyborg thing—he sort of had a handle on it in a way that no one had expected. Tony couldn’t help but admire the way he refused to feel guilty about what had been done to him, or through him, although he was admittedly overzealous whenever he had the opportunity to go up against a Hydra operative.

He was surprisingly open to Tony tinkering with the arm, which was also a plus, even if they mostly snapped at each other the first few times Bucky had come to the workshop on his own.

Out in the field, Bucky was a crack shot, and Tony found himself suddenly inspired to build one badass custom sniper rifle without being asked to, along with new body armor, and a pair of goggles kitted out with an enviable heads up display. Bucky was equally surprised when Tony pulled him aside to give him the equipment, and in the spirit of not wanting to owe Tony anything, offered to spar with him, or field test his projects.

So they’d set up a regular sparring session, much to Steve’s approval, and oddly enough it was easier to like Barnes when he was half naked, and sweaty, and pinning Tony to the mats. He found himself looking forward to the matches. Surprising? Yes. Very. Not as surprising as the feeling of Bucky’s mouth against his own, or metal fingers curling possessively around his jaw, or the heat that rolled off of his skin when Tony slid his hand down the back of Bucky’s shorts to grab a handful of rather magnificent ass.

Luckily, no one made an appearance in the gym that particular afternoon, because Tony wasn’t sure either of them would have been in a position to stop. One minute they’d been sparring like always, and the next they’d had no choice but to admit that part of what was going on between them was physical attraction. One of Bucky’s hands had both of his pinned above his head, and when Tony arched into the body above his in an attempt to work himself loose, Bucky slid his free hand hand beneath Tony, nestling it into the small of his back. He’d looked as surprised as Tony felt, but didn’t remove his hand. No, he just slid it lower, over the swell of Tony’s ass, and shifted so that Tony could feel that he wasn’t the only one excited by the proximity.

Tony was pretty sure he’d never had sex like that before. It felt like a battle mixed with a game of chicken, seasoned with irritation, disbelief, and pure animalistic need. They hadn’t even gotten naked, had just groped and grappled and grinded, kissing like they had something to prove to each other. Bucky had legitimately growled at him, and bit down into his shoulder when Tony finally took them both in hand, but after the big finish, something in his eyes had softened as he stared down at Tony, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath.

“Don’t tell Steve,” Bucky had ordered, his brow furrowed, but he’d followed it up with an almost tender kiss.

Something in Tony’s chest felt like it’d been twisted round the wrong way, but you wouldn’t have known it from his sarcastic tone of voice. “Right, because I can’t wait to tell Steve I corrupted his best friend.”

Bucky’s eyes had widened, but then he’d smirked, and grabbed hold of Tony’s hand to suck his fingers clean. “Don’t flatter yourself, Stark. I was ‘corrupted’ way before you were even born.”

Tony had laughed at this, and Bucky had joined in, before adding, “I’m not ashamed, or freaked out, I’m just lookin’ to avoid a heartfelt talk about fraternization, or team dynamics, or my _feelings_.” He licked his lips, and smiled down at Tony. “Why’s everyone in the future so keen to talk about their feelings all the damn time?”

And as if to prove he wasn’t freaked out, Bucky showed up in his workshop two days later for a rematch. Round one definitely went to Bucky, but Tony counted that particular match as a point in his favor, since he’d left Bucky with shaking legs and an inability to form coherent sentences. After that was an honest to god supply closet, the cockpit of the quinjet (which had been extra fun due to all the cockpit jokes made), the workshop a couple more times, and even Steve’s bike one memorable occasion.

It was a month before they got anywhere near a bed, and somewhere around the first time Bucky fell asleep beside him Tony finally stopped keeping score.

They still bickered, but there wasn’t any heat to it. They stole food off of each other’s plates, argued about what qualified as good music, and teased the hell out of each other. Tony assumed everyone knew what was going on, because they weren’t always subtle about leering at each other, and the fighting had more of a flirting quality to it than anything else. Only, that hadn’t been the case at all.

Steve, Natasha, and Bucky had gone on a mission without the rest of the gang, and Tony had found himself clock watching, and worrying, so when they finally showed up in the middle of a pizza eating frenzy, he might have found himself smiling so hard that his face hurt, heart hammering happily in his chest. He wanted to strip Bucky down and look him over, make sure he hadn’t been injured, but stayed put instead, because it wasn’t like _that_ between them.

Except, maybe it _was_ , because Bucky had crossed the room, coming to a halt directly behind Tony’s chair.

Tony had a slice of pizza in one hand, a beer in the other, and was surrounded by Bruce, Sam, and Thor. He had enough time to see their eyes widen in surprise when Bucky slid a hand beneath Tony’s chin, and tilted his head back and up.

“Hey, trouble, what’d I miss while I was gone?”

He was just staring up at Bucky, feeling oddly exposed by the awkward angle, mouth opened to answer when Bucky leaned over and kissed him. He was so preoccupied with the oddness of the upside-down kiss that he jumped in surprise when Sam choked loudly on his beer.

Bucky had just smirked against his mouth, though, pulled up a chair, given him a right-side-up kiss, and then taken the slice of pizza right out of Tony’s hand. Everyone stared as he tipped his head and took a huge bite, draping his free arm around Tony’s shoulders as if it was all entirely normal.

It wasn’t though, not really, not even close. Tony still had no idea what they were to each other, because they’d never gotten around to talking about it. The kiss seemed to leave the team as confused as Tony felt, because surprisingly not a one of them asked for an explanation, or so much as said a word on the subject. Not even Steve, which… Tony had fully expected to find himself pulled aside and given a shovel talk, only it never happened. But that could easily be because Bucky told Steve the thing with Tony wasn’t anything serious, thus negating the need for a talking to in the first place.

Tony planned to come out and just ask, but could never quite get the words past his lips. The closest he came was during a post-battle romp, Bucky writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, hips rolling back frantically to meet each of Tony’s thrusts. He was draped across all that beautiful muscle, face pressed between Bucky’s shoulder blades, lips dragging back and forth against his salty skin. Blissed out, Tony had disconnected from what his mouth was saying, so was surprised when Bucky answered a question he hadn’t realized he’d asked, reaching behind himself to curl his fingers around the back of Tony’s thigh, trying to pull him even deeper.

“Oh, _fuck_ , yeah, Tony, I love being with you.”

After, they’d lounged around in bed together for almost an hour, a good bit of it spent arguing over whether or not Johnny Storm looked like Steve. Tony wasn’t backing down, the resemblance was eerie, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why no one else  _noticed_. It had been nice lying there, legs tangled together, and Bucky blowing raspberries against his neck in an attempt to distract him from his entirely valid argument, but then Bucky got a call from Clint, and the two of them went to the range together. Tony didn’t see or hear from him again for almost thirty-six hours, so maybe Bucky had only been talking about the sex when he’d said he loved being with Tony.

Bucky didn’t seem to mind his tactile nature, though, and was comfortable getting hands on himself. It wasn’t uncommon to get tucked under Bucky’s arm, or have fingers running through his hair during movie night. He acted like he was happier, which was a good sign. Like now, smiling up at Tony, his eyes warm and affectionate as Tony traced the contours of his face, and thought embarrassingly tender thoughts.

Whatever it was between them, Tony wasn’t willing to risk losing it by getting all greedy and desperate. He’d take Bucky any way he could get him.

Tony wanted to kiss him, or maybe just tuck his nose into the curve of Bucky’s shoulder and breathe deeply. Wanted to do something stupid, like ask Bucky to move into the penthouse with him, or build him the flying car he was always going on about.

Instead, he moved his hand aside when Bucky perked up in response to Steve calling his name.

“Looks like duty calls,” Bucky said, sighing. He shifted his gun, and took a couple steps away before spinning on his heels. “Hey, find me after? We need to talk.”

And just like that, the night no longer seemed beautiful or magical. The bottom dropped out, and Tony only just managed to answer, “Yeah, sure. Whenever you want.”

Feeling sick to his stomach, Tony watched him walking away, his chest aching like his heart was being trampled into the dirt as Bucky went.

+

It wasn’t like he was _avoiding_ Bucky, it was just that there really was a lot of post-battle business to attend to. Debriefs, and post-mortems were tedious, but Bucky seemed to understand they were a necessity.

Steve got slammed with paperwork, so Tony helped with that, despite Steve’s incredulous looks and assurances that he’d be fine if Tony wanted to spend time with Bucky instead. Time together meant _talking_ together, though, so he stuck with it, ignoring the looks Steve gave him after he turned Bucky away when he showed up with coffee, and sandwiches, and tried to talk Tony into taking a break.

Pepper arranged for a press conference, which meant they also needed to have something positive to announce, like SI was helping with the cost of damages, and for maybe the first time ever Tony showed up to each of Pepper’s meetings on time. Bucky was understanding, although it was probably only a matter of time before Tony’s excuses sounded exactly like… Well, _excuses_.

Sure, okay, maybe he _was_ avoiding Bucky, but there was the suit to think of, and the fact that Clint still wasn’t satisfied with the balance of the latest compound bow iteration, and Cap’s armor was overdue for an upgrade, so Tony didn’t have much choice but to spend a day or two working in lockdown mode.

That was a bit easier, because JARVIS could be the one to turn Bucky away.

Absence didn’t help much, because throughout it all, Bucky’s words seemed to run on repeat in the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push them away. In the history of the world, nothing good had ever followed the phrase _we need to talk_. It wasn’t going to be, “We need to talk… I just realized I’m crazy about you, even though you’re frustrating at the best of times, and on the wrong side of forty, and are going grayer every day, while I’m young, and beautiful, and _way_ out of your league.”

No, chances were it’d be something like, “We need to talk. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s pretty obvious you’re reading way too much into a little sex between colleagues, so let’s just call it quits before your patheticness makes me puke.”

+

Five days after Bucky’s we need to talk bombshell, Tony walked into his office only to find the man in question perched in his chair, feet up on Tony’s desk. His eyes spoke volumes; he might as well have been wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the words _I’m So Over This Shit, Tony_.

“Hi,“ Tony offered weakly.

Bucky blinked at him, the frown growing more pronounced somehow. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a pathetic sort of squeaking sound, so he shrugged his shoulders, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Bucky swung his legs off of the desk, leaning forward, braced on his elbows. Something suspiciously like hurt was visible in his eyes for the space of several heartbeats before his expression went blank, and unreadable.

“Wanna clue me in as to _why_?”

Tony chewed the inside of his cheek, shrugged again. “I figured that’d be easier all around,” he answered after a moment, proud of how unaffected he sounded. His palms were sweating, and he wanted to run away, but instead he plopped himself down in a chair on the wrong side of his desk. “Save you the trouble of the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ psuedo-compassionate bullshit. Of course it’s me, it’s always me.”

Bucky blinked slowly, one eyebrow twitching as he stared at Tony, drumming his fingers against the surface of the desk. He didn’t say anything, simply held Tony’s gaze, until the silence began to feel pressurized, and he opened his mouth again.

“I get it, you know. It’s fine. I just, ah, hope it isn’t a problem working with me.”

Eyes widening, Bucky pushed away from the desk, leaning back in the chair, his head cocked to the side. “Tony, what’re you talking about?”

“The age difference was bound to be an issue at some point,” he plowed on, not quite able to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Overlooking all of my personality defects is harder when it comes packaged with graying hair, and, ah… Yeah.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Look at me,” Bucky said, and it took a while, but Tony managed it. “Where the hell is all this coming from, Tony?”

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to get any more words out past the lump in his throat. Bucky stood up, walked around the desk, and to Tony’s dismay, dragged his fingertips through the hair at his temples, right where the silver was most prevalent. It left him feeling hot, and uncomfortable. Bucky made a low, frustrated sound when Tony squirmed in his seat, pulling back from the caress.

“Since when are you worried about your age?”

Tony squirmed again, dug a smile up from somewhere, and settled back in his seat, staring up at Bucky. “We both know what ‘we need to talk’ means. I was sort of hoping we could skip the whole list of reasons _why_ you’re dumping me, and just—”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m doing what now?”

Bucky was staring down at him, by all appearances legitimately confused and upset. “Okay, sorry, right. We never actually, ah, established that we were a couple, so ‘dump’ is probably overstating—”

“Wait, Tony, stop talking _right now_.”

Tony’s mouth snapped shut audibly, and he pressed his lips together to keep it that way, not even coming close to deciphering Bucky’s expression. As he watched, a shiny hand scrubbed over Bucky’s face before pushing his hair out of the way, while he shook his head and stared at the ceiling.

“Right, okay.” Bucky took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, a muscle in his jaw twitching alarmingly. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Are you saying this is only about sex for you?”

Tony opened his mouth fully prepared to lie in some misguided attempt to save face, but his stupid mind conjured up the image of brushing Bucky’s hair back behind his ear, his smile serving as a beautiful oasis in a world full of chaos and destruction.

“No, not even close,” he answered before he chickened out.

Immediately the tension left Bucky’s body, and he no longer seemed ready to explode. He reached out again, fingers stroking along the side of Tony’s face, his eyes full of concern and confusion, and this time Tony stayed put.

“Good. Me neither.” Try as he might, Tony couldn’t hold back a small huff of surprise. “Not that the sex isn’t great,” Bucky added. “And I mean _great_. But there’s more to a relationship than sex.”

Tony nodded, unable to trust himself with words, mostly because of the one Bucky had just used.

“You’re freaking me out, Tony. Why the hell are you suddenly worried about your age? I think the silver in your hair is hot.”

“Wait, you what?”

Bucky shrugged, chin tucked into his chest, cheeks going tellingly pink. “Thought that was obvious. I mean, _damn_ , Tony. You have to know how good you look. Right? And… I don’t know why, but the silver suits you. Have you really not noticed how often I play with your hair?”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. Bucky was chewing on his lower lip, and throwing looks from under his lashes, the pink in his cheeks just doing things to Tony. As did the words. Slowly, he began to loosen his grip on the insecurities, because it was fairly obvious Bucky wasn’t kidding.

“So the age difference really doesn’t bother you?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Kinda dig it, actually.”

“Are you sure? Because you could do _way_ better than me.”

"That’s bullshit.” Bucky made a sort of tsking sound in the back of his throat, hands settling into place on either side of Tony’s face, framing it, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “You sound like you’re trying to talk me into dumping you. Come on, out with it, what the hell is going on?”

“You tell me! You’re the one saying _we need to talk_. What else am I supposed to think?”

Tony was looking right into Bucky’s eyes, which was probably the only reason he finally realized Bucky actually _didn’t_ know what that particular phrase was best known for. His suspicions were confirmed when Bucky’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth.

“Me wanting to talk to you is a problem all of a sudden? But we talk all the—”

“The end of every single one of my prior relationships kicked off with the words _we need to talk_. _We need to talk_ is code for _I need to explain to you all the ways you suck as a partner, and then we’ll spend the next few months pretending you can change, when we both know you can’t, and then I’ll leave you, because you’re an immature, narcissistic, asshole incapable of making another person happy_.”

Tony exhaled shakily, feeling slightly mortified, and wishing he could just get those words back so Bucky wouldn’t be looking at him like he’d just kicked a puppy.

“Did somebody actually say that shit to you?”

“Er…”

“Tony! That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. You’re brilliant, and funny, and I’m definitely the bigger asshole between the two of us. I’ve been plenty happy, although I’d be happier if I hadn’t just spent the last _week_ getting turned away with increasingly lame excuses every time I tried to see my fucking boyfriend.”

Tony’s mouth opened and closed several times. “Well, what the hell was this talk supposed to be about then?”

“Clint’s birthday party,” Bucky said, and Tony groaned.

“Oh. What about his party?”

“Tony!”

“I’m sorry, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, I guess, but seriously, ask anyone, those are scary words.”

Bucky shifted back to lean against the edge of Tony’s desk, arms folded across his chest. “I can’t believe you thought I was only interested in sex. Thanks a lot.”

“In my defense, it’s all been very confusing.” Of course, now he was going to get dumped for not having realized he wasn’t getting dumped. Sometimes he hated his life.

Bucky was studying him, his pale eyes doing that intense sniper thing where it was like he was looking deep, deep into you somehow, right down to the soft, squishy center. He looked angry, right up until Tony realized it was _hurt_ he was seeing in Bucky’s eyes.

“Name something confusing,” he said, a strange tenderness in his voice.

“Not one shovel talk? Not a single joke at our expense? I figured you told everyone it was nothing serious.”

As Tony watched, Bucky’s expression shifted, guilt flickering across his handsome face. “I mighta made some threats.”

“Excuse you?”

Bucky shifted, rubbing the back of his neck, mouth twisted into a wry little smile. “It’s entirely possible I told Steve I’d never talk to him again if he went and scared you off, and then had Nat help me put the fear into everybody else.”

“You were worried about _me_ dumping _you_?” Tony asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity.

“What? It’s not funny!”

“Funny, no. Insane? Absolutely. I’m _crazy_ for you, Bucky. Each time you leave instead of spending the night, I can’t sleep, and—”

“Tony, are you serious? I never _wanted_ to leave, but whenever I brought up the idea of spending the night you started listin’ off all the reasons why _I_ probably didn’t want to, and all but chased me outta the penthouse! Kinda took that to mean you needed a bit of space, so I backed off.”

“Okay, in retrospect I can understand how that would seem if one was lacking the necessary context.”

“Hey, JARVIS, how many times have I tried to tell Tony how much I care about him, only to have him brush it off, or change the subject?”

Before Tony could stop sputtering long enough to protest, JARVIS answered, “Twenty-six times, sir,” and he was left speechless. Bucky leaned back with his arms folded across his chest, looking far too smug.

“Okay, that _has_ to be an exaggeration,” Tony finally managed.

“You dodge compliments like they’re bullets,” Bucky said softly, prodding at Tony’s shin with his boot. “Kinda hoped _some_ of it had sunk in, though.”

Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat. “But you wanted to keep it a secret,” he offered lamely.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, at the _beginning_ , and I _told_ you that was ‘cause of wanting to avoid a whole talking to. Don’t you remember how crazy Steve was acting the first couple months I was livin’ here? I love the guy, but he was going overboard with the mama bear routine.”

Which… huh. Bucky had a point. On one memorable occasion about two weeks after they’d started sleeping together, everyone had run away when Steve and Bucky had a rather epic argument on the common floor after Steve walked in to find Bucky watching reality television. He had a distinct memory of Bucky and Steve wrestling over the remote, Bucky shouting, “Stop trying to protect me from the goddamned TV, and let me watch  _Jersey Shore_ already!”

Now that he was thinking about it, Steve _had_ sort of treated everything new and interesting like it was going to lead to Bucky having a breakdown. Bucky had complained about it a lot, and maybe even asked for advice once or twice. Of course, instead of _actually_ hearing what he was saying, Tony had taken that to mean the only reason Bucky was down in the workshop so often was to hide from Steve.

“He expected me to have a meltdown over _cellphones_ , Tony, and they’re just souped up walkie talkies! Can you blame me for thinking he’d have lost his mind when he found out I’d started a relationship with the guy who embodies everything awesome about the future?”

“Uh…”

But Bucky just kept going.

“Hell, one of the things I liked so much about you even before we got together was that you didn’t treat me with kid gloves, or act like I was gonna go Winter Soldier at the drop of a hat and murder everybody in their sleep,” Bucky continued, smiling again. “I could just  _be myself_ around you. That was kinda big, Tony.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.” Bucky sighed, shook his head, and leaned over far enough to grab one of Tony’s hands, and hold it. “And then I tried to get your permission to tell him, and you did what you always do, which is make excuses on my behalf, or change the subject, so I just said fuck it and kissed you in front of everybody, even though I was scared shitless you were gonna tell me I’d overstepped my bounds, and then stop seeing me.”

Tony sucked in a deep breath as his brain provided him a montage of Bucky’s gentle, cautious questioning, and all twenty-six times he’d apparently gone out of his way to misunderstand what Bucky was trying to tell him.

“The only time you let me say anything about love, or how amazing I think you are was when we were having sex, so really, outta the two of us, I should be the one worried about getting dumped here.”

“Oh my god, I’m _an idiot_.”

Bucky hung his head, shoulders shaking. Tony waited for the shouting to start, but Bucky was laughing instead, which was a big improvement over how all his spats with Pepper had gone. “Stop trying to hog all the credit,” he said, kissing Tony’s hand. “Pretty sure I’m as big an idiot as you. We obviously gotta work on our whole approach to communication.”

Tony didn’t bother trying to keep the silly smile off of his face. “Seems to be the case, yes.”

“I love you just the way you are, knucklehead.”

“Even the wrinkles?”

Bucky leaned over, hands braced against the back of Tony’s chair, holding his gaze on the way down. Tony smiled at the feeling of Bucky’s lips pressing to the corner of his eye. “Oh yeah. Especially the little lines around your eyes.”

“We’re not breaking up, are we?”

“No, Tony,” Bucky answered, dropping a kiss against his lips this time. “You’re stuck with me.”

He blamed the soft, affectionate look in Bucky’s eyes for the next bit.

“Now that we’re both on the same page about the loving each other situation, you should move into the penthouse with me,” he blurted. “The proximity will help with working on our communication skills.”

Great, there he went, getting greedy, pushing for more, when… But Bucky was smiling like Tony had just said the best words ever, so his anxiety immediately fizzled out and died.

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that.”

Bucky kissed him then, probably to shut him up, which was actually a smart move on his part. He was doing them both a favor, really. Tony sighed contentedly, happy to lose himself in the moment, feeling all warm and squishy and not in the least bit self conscious any longer.


End file.
